


Laundry Day

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Big Brother Dean, Brothers, Consequences, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 12:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: For his entire life, the only consistency had been the recurring event called Laundry Day. It was a day between hunts, when Dean found a small town to run errands of all kinds, including, of course, cleaning clothes. This particular Laundry Day isn't going as planned, especially since Dean could swear that when it started this morning, he'd had a kid brother named Sam...





	1. He Ain't Heavy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [somekindofsaviour](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=somekindofsaviour).



> Lovely art by Liliaeth at http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/496861.html.

He was a simple man. 

Chevies, cheeseburgers and chicks. It was what life was all about. At least, that was what life was for. What it was generally about, unfortunately, was less simple. 

“Dean! I told you, we can't use that account again! You gotta burn that one!”

“My Baby needs-”

“She's going to have to wait till we can score some cash!”

“When was the last time you got us a new account anyway? Why am I always in charge of the finances in this marriage?”

The bitchface his brother tossed back on his way into the copy shop was enough to melt the paint off the door he slammed behind him. 

Dean sighed, and sat back in the driver’s seat to wait. “It's okay, sweetheart. You know I'm gonna get you what you need. Sammy's just in a bad mood because...because he's Sammy.” He slipped his fingers beneath his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “I'm tired, Baby. Don't tell Sam. He's a pain in the ass brother hen.”

He took hold of the steering wheel, and began beating out the rhythm to one of his favorites. But it wasn't long before he was drifting. He didn't bother trying to keep himself awake. Sam would be busy with those IDs and registrations for a while. Part of the challenge was keeping the copy shop employees from noticing the felonies being committed. Sam would hack the copy machines’ computers and erase any photos of them, of course. That all took time. So Dean let himself fade away, cradled in the only childhood bed he could truly remember. 

The flutter of wings startled him. “Son of a-Cas!”

The angel narrowed his eyes. “Hello, Dean.”

“Where the hell have you been?”

He sighed and looked out the window from Sam's seat. “Hell.”

Dean blinked at him. “Hell? Why?”

“I learned something disturbing about someone wreaking havoc. Someone we've thought had perished in the days of the Apocalypse.”

That was never good. “Okay. Who?”

Castiel turned back to face him, and blood streamed mercilessly from his eyes. 

Dean slammed backward against the car door. “Cas! What's wrong with-”

“I can't fly, Dean.”

A brutal flinch crushed his chest. “What? But you just-”

“My wings are broken, Dean. And that's on you. It's all on you. And it's never coming clean.”

He could hear a high-pitched noise screaming somewhere behind him. He should leap from the car, run. Take Sam and run, fast as he could. But he was paralyzed. And anyway, Castiel was family. He couldn’t leave him if there was something wrong. 

“Alastair did this to me, Dean.”

“No,” he sputtered out. “N-no, Sam killed him.”

“Sam?” Castiel began to laugh, and blood sprayed out from him in a gory smear. “Sam. You mean the Boy King? You mean Lucifer's meat suit? You think he really killed Alistair? Or do you think perhaps he simply pretended to? Dean, at the time, they were on the same side!” The laughter was nauseating. 

At last, Dean's fingers found the door handle. But they slipped uselessly. There was blood everywhere. His fingers could not get traction. “That's not true. Sam was never on the side of the demons! Sam's always tried to do right! How can you say that? Sam’s family!”

“You're a moronic mess.”

He looked away from the door to find that Castiel was no longer there. The sneering voice belonged to the King of the Damned, and not his angel friend at all. “Crowley.”

“Hello, Squirrel. Where's your Moose?”

“What are you doing here?”

Crowley’s eyes rolled in exasperation. “I'm here to defend your daft brother.”

“Defend-”

“The big pigeon has made an accusation. I'm here to set the record straight.”

Dean stopped fighting with the door handle. “You're defending Sam? Against Cas?”

“Your pet angel seems to think Sam aligned himself with Alistair, the Great Kinkmaster of legend. I'm here to remind you that the bloody harpist himself wasn't exactly forthcoming with support before the bloody Apocalypse either. He wasn't on your side then. He isn't now.”

“Cas is-He’s family! Of-of course he-”

“He waited just long enough to come to your aid, didn’t he? Just long enough, so that there was nothing you could do to stop Sam killing Lilith. Then he was on board! How could you think he wasn’t just like any of the others, who wanted the seals to be broken? He wanted the Apocalypse to be won, not prevented!”

Dean’s head was swimming. It was probably because he was losing so much blood. He couldn’t focus. Where was the wound?

“Get that tied off, son.”

He blinked hard, and tried to make his vision obey him. At last, Crowley’s face came back into focus, but it wasn’t Crowley’s at all. Why had he thought Crowley was there? “Dad?”

“You’re going to bleed out, Dean.”

But his arms were too heavy to move. “Then help me!” he moaned. “We’re family!”

“I’ve helped you as much as I could. You’re on your own now, Dean. And as for Sam? If you can’t save him-”

A wave of frustration flowed through him, and he heard himself shouting. “I’m not killing Sam!”

“Um. Glad to hear it?”

Dean startled awake and slammed his knee into the dash. “Goddamn-”

Sam was staring at him from the open passenger window. “Is it safe to come in, or should I be on my guard?”

The older man rubbed clammy hands over his face, and sat up properly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

His brother slid into the car with a smirk. “I’d like to know what kind of dream has you mumbling that you’re not going to kill me.”

“What?” he demanded irritably. “Shut up. I don’t know. I just...Cas was bleeding, and Dad was Crowley, and...Shut up. I don’t know.”

Sam snorted. “Dad was Crowley?” He gave a low whistle. “That’s a dynamic I never would have attributed to your bromance.”

Dean scowled, and started the Impala. “You done?” 

“That depends. I think there’s a joke in there somewhere.”

“There isn’t,” he assured him. “Not one you’d survive making.”

Sam shrugged and tossed his folder full of paperwork onto the back seat. “What’s next on the Laundry Day agenda?”

It was one of those days. For their entire lives, the only consistency had been the recurring event called Laundry Day. It was a day between hunts, when they found a small town to run errands of all kinds, including, of course, cleaning their clothes. Now that they returned to the bunker regularly, they often could go without finding a laundromat, but it would always be called that anyway. 

They pulled out of the copy shop lot and headed back toward the highway.

“You cutting my hair?”

“Not if I can get out of it.”

Dean shot him a glare. 

Sam groaned. “Yes, I’m cutting your hair.”

“Am I cutting yours?”

“No. I got it.”

“Can I cut yours?”

“I said no.”

He snickered a little, then turned on the music. “You need anything at the drugstore? Tampons, midol?”

“Screw you.” Sam lay back wearily. “But we can use some aspirin. And gauze. And I’m going to start wrapping my wrist again.”

He glanced at his brother. “What’d you do now?”

The younger man was his best friend in the world, and always would be. But sometimes Dean didn’t realize something was wrong until Sam had been hurting for far too long. The kid had always been stubborn, and he wouldn’t admit to pain if he could help it. Even now, he tended to downplay his injuries. “It’s no big deal. The damn spirit from Wichita.”

He did some mental calculations. “Dude, that was five weeks ago.”

“Yeah. I wrapped it for about two weeks-”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I thought it was fine, but it gave me trouble this weekend when we were getting our asses handed to us by that hopped-up vamp.”

Memories of super-vamps flashed through his mind, and he recognized them as the root of his exhaustion. “Sam? You think they’re getting stronger, or are we just getting old?”

His brother looked up from his wrist. “You’re kidding, right? Both. Because that’s how it works.”

“How what works?”

“Our lives.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “So explain to me again why it’s not an evolutionary thing?”

Sam took a breath to launched into his lecture. 

Dean liked the way, if he caught his brother in the right mood, he could explain things without making Dean himself feel like an idiot. It was nice.

“So it would be different if they bred like natural animals, right? But they don’t. We know now that weres do. I mean, I guess some of them. Garth’s buddies did. Anyway, vamps, so far as we’ve always known, they don’t breed. They convert. So genetics aren’t a factor. I guess if the werewolves breed, evolution would be a factor there. But with the born werewolves also mixing with the Bittens, that would make it-”

“I don’t want to think about Garth breeding. Go back to the vamps.”

Sam seemed to agree. “Right. So genetic adaptation happens over generations, when a spontaneous gene mutation proves useful to survival.”

“What if it isn’t useful?”

“If it doesn’t make a difference to survival, it will get carried on like anything else. That’s where variation, even among siblings, comes to be. Various possibilities from parent genes, and occasional mutations.”

“I’m better-looking than you. That a variation?” he teased as he pulled the car into the pharmacy lot.

His brother rolled his eyes. “You’re a mutation, and not a useful one,” he shot back. “Anyway, if a mutation is detrimental to survival, it won’t get passed on very long, because the individual who has it will die off before getting to make lots of babies, or it won’t be as attractive to mates, so it won’t get to reproduce.”

“Not attractive to mates. Again, you.”

“You’re an asshole. Do you want me to teach you or not?”

He was beginning to wonder, but he nodded. “Okay. I apologize, Professor. Continue.”

“So, long story short, a useful mutation gets passed on through reproduction. But vamps, they don’t reproduce.”

Dean turned off his car, then snapped his fingers. “But they do. Through their own blood.”

Sam considered. “Okay, but…” He shook his head. “It’s still not the same. There’s only one parent in that case.”

“The human getting turned is the other source of genes for the new creature. He's his own second parent.”

“No, he’s…”

Dean raised his eyebrow as Sam’s voice faded off.

The younger man frowned. “I mean, he’s…”

It wasn’t often that Dean was able to stump the college boy. But he didn’t have time to enjoy it. 

Sam shook his head. “The point is it isn't natural, dumbass, so it doesn't follow natural adaptation. They're not animals. They're freaking vampires. That one this weekend just figured out how to enhance his game. It was more like steroids than punctuated equilibrium.”

Dean made a face. Sometimes Sam just used phrases like that whenever he felt like Dean was catching on to something. His kid brother was insecure like that. “Okay, well, I know what steroids are, and I don't like the idea of fangs using them.”

The younger man shrugged. “I missed the episode where they asked our opinion. About anything. Ever.”

He pushed out of the car, and the two of them strolled into the pharmacy. They disappeared into separate aisles as always. It was kind of nice the way he and Sam seemed to coordinate without communication. Some days, Dean would head for the first aid items, and other days, like today, he took care of the toiletries. Either way, Sam seemed to already know which job was his, and, like today, he went to work picking out painkiller, gauze and wraps without a word or even a glance at Dean. 

A small smile came over him as he looked through the shampoos. Sure, they annoyed the hell out of one another. But they were two halves of a whole. Dean liked that. Sam and his Baby were the only safe things Dean had ever had. It was why he was so lost without them. 

When he hit the floor, it was as much a surprise to him as to the elderly lady nearby. He tried to lift his head, but an overwhelming weight negated the effort. He groaned groggily. “Sam?” he ground out in a weak voice. 

“Shh. It's okay, honey,” the woman was saying. “They've called someone to help you.”

“No, I-” He squinted up at her. She was kneeling beside him on the floor between the toothpastes and the mouthwash, and she was sort of petting his hand. “Where's Sam? My brother, where-”

She looked up and shrugged. “I don't think there's anyone else here, honey. Now, just be still. You hit your head hard. No reason to make things worse.”

He might have ignored her advice if he felt at all capable of rising. “What happened?”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “Looked like a seizure from where I stood. But they've called an ambulance, and-”

“No,” Dean moaned. His head throbbed nastily, and his limbs did not want to move. “No, I gotta-My brother, he's here, he just…”

She patted his hand. “It's all okay, honey. Here they come now.”

“Sam!” he shrieked hoarsely. But the voice he was expecting did not respond, and before the EMTs even made it to his position, the world went black.


	2. You know. Soulmates.

“Dean? You think you could give me a hand with the laundry?”

He blinked up at the ceiling.

“Dean?” The bedroom door opened, and he pushed himself to sit up. Nancy smiled at him sympathetically. “Hey, babe. You still hurting?”

He cringed. “Now that you mention it,” he groaned. But he smiled too, and reached for her, and pulled her down atop him when she came near enough.

A laugh brightened the room. “Hey! I'm supposed to be up and getting things done! I know the importance of Laundry Day!”

There was a stab of pain behind his eyes when she said it.

Concern draped itself over her face. “Hey. Hey, hey. You're really not all right yet, are you?”

He sighed and lay back against the pillows. He held her hand against his chest, where it warmed his heart. “I'll be okay. It's just pride. Mighty hunter faints at the sight of shampoo prices. It'll be in all the hunting newsletters.”

She giggled quietly. “Babe, you didn't just faint. Okay? Something happened to you. We don't know what, but we’ll figure it out. Right? We always do.”

“I love you.”

She nodded. “I love me too.”

A burst of affection gave him the strength to pull her down onto his chest and wrap his arms around her. “Tell me you love me,” he teased.

Nancy immediately jabbed him in the ribs, forcing him to release her. “I love you,” she smirked.

“What's a guy gotta do to get a kiss around here?”

She hopped out of the bed and grinned back at him. “Brushing your teeth might be a great start. I married you for your good looks, not your morning breath.”

“You married me because I saved your life.”

This received a shrug. “I had sex with you after you saved my life, not because you saved my life. And I married you because you're pretty.”

Dean smiled after her as she sauntered out of the bedroom. His wife was a treasure. She had such an incredible spark, and that had never changed. It was only the innocence which had dissolved since they had first met, back when he and Bobby had been captured by Victor Henriksen and his partner, and taken to that station for holding until a helicopter could carry them off. When the demons had attacked, Dean had protected Nancy and the others, while Bobby worked his exorcisms. That witch demon had talked about using Nancy as a sacrifice in a spell to summon Lilith, chattering endlessly about how the master plan had been ruined. A virgin sacrifice was a component in a spell to bring about the first human twisted by Lucifer into a demon. Dean was not about to let that happen. There would be no virgins sacrificed on his watch.

Ironically, at some point, Nancy had promised herself that, if she lived through this, she would allow herself to have sex. Who better than the handsome hero? Dean had been grieving his loss of Bobby, who had been killed by the witch demon before Dean could take her out. He confiscated her knife, a demon-killing blade, and had considered it a tribute to Bobby Singer every time he used it. And between the relief to be alive and the grief over his mentor, Dean was just vulnerable enough to fall completely in love with this sweet girl.

That sweet girl deserved a man who could get his ass out of bed on Laundry Day.

He peeled himself out from the blankets and put himself through the motions. Nancy was right that he was still not back to a hundred after his fall. Of all the things to take Dean Campbell out of the game...He was, after all, the only son of the legendary hunter Mary Campbell.

“Mom’s probably rolling in her grave,” he groaned at the mirror. It was just a figure of speech, of course. He had done a proper hunter's funeral for her.

He picked up his two old photographs, one of his mother grinning at him as she stepped out of the driver’s side of the Impala, and one of the car and Mary with his father. “Hey, Dad,” he murmured. “I know what Mom would say. What about you? Mom said you were always so strong. What would you think of me now?”

But he hadn't even been born when John had passed. Killed by a ginger angel, Mary had always said. That angel had been quickly fried by another, but it had been too late for John. The other had been a dark-haired guy who looked like John Constantine, as Mary told it.

He had looked down at John with a raised eyebrow, and sighed. “Mary Campbell. You're pregnant?”

“Wha-what? Pregnant! No, of-of course not! John and I aren't even married!”

The creature had sighed again. “Mary? I am an angel of the Lord. I know you are pregnant.”

“An angel! Then-then save him! Bring him back! Please!”

He had nodded. “I will. But I cannot yet. My energy is...I am low on plutonium again.”

Mary had stared. “That...doesn't make any sense.”

“I didn't think it did either. Neither I nor cars use it as fuel.”

She decided to let it go. “If you're an angel, what's that?”

He looked back at the dead redhead. “Also an angel. A sort of...rabbit boiling type. She's been here before. When she wasn't able to kill you then, she escaped capture and came to this time. I'm sorry I wasn't able to prevent this. Anna is...It is complicated. But you fought her courageously until I was able to make it here to stop her. I commend you for that.” He reached toward her, and Mary felt a relief come over her wounds.

“You healed me. Heal John! Please! He can't be gone!”

“He-”

At that moment, another figure appeared, with a force that blew Mary to the ground. “Castiel!” this new threat roared.

Her angel gripped his dagger tightly, and narrowed his eyes. “Uriel. Michael let you live.”

“I didn't know what Anna had planned. Of course he let me live.”

Castiel frowned. “I will kill you if you try to touch Mary Winchester.”

The name made her blink, but she was far more preoccupied with inching toward her lost lover. Whatever was about to happen, she wanted no part of it.

“Mary? No. Mary may live,” the Uriel angel said generously. “There's a new order. Let Mary live. But I am to prevent John Winchester's resurrection.”

Castiel's mouth dropped in horror. “No! No, you cannot separate them! They are two halves! They need one another! They must be permitted to-They are soulmates, Uriel! You know this!”

“You know that isn't true. When the tainted one serves the Fallen Prince, and you know that he will, he will be lost forever, and they will never join together in Heaven or anywhere else. Isn't it better this way? Michael's Sword without the Serpent’s Fang? You have prevented the deaths of Mary and her son. You have done well, Castiel. And now we must let it go.”

“No!” Castiel shrieked. “No! The world itself depends upon them both! They are meant to fight together! I will not allow their separation! They are my friends and I cannot abide-”

Before Mary or her guardian could move, Uriel was on him, and she watched in horror as white light burst from Castiel. She ducked into John’s shoulder to shield her eyes, but looked up as Uriel sighed.

“I'm sorry, my brother,” he muttered. “But you've been corrupted by these mud monkeys, and you've simply got too much heart. It's over.”

Mary swallowed hard. Fury and desperation filled her, and she moved without thought. Before she even knew what she was doing, she had grabbed Castiel's blade and shoved it into Uriel’s side. Shock widened the creature’s eyes. “Yeah? Well, there's still me.” The light exploded everywhere, and the body dropped to the ground with a thud, and black ash wings spread from three lost angel warriors.

Dean's mother had wept for his father. But she had taken Uriel's blade too, and now it belonged to Dean. Two perfect, identical blades, one used to kill John’s killer, the other used to kill the angel who had tried to save him. Castiel, the guardian angel, had been Dean's bedtime story his whole life. He was the angel who had insisted that John and Mary were meant to be together, that they could not be separated.

Dean smiled grimly at his photographs. “What would you think of me, Dad?” he wondered again. “Mom said you were a fighter. I've thought of you every time I've fought. Hoping I'm doing right by you.”

He put his mementos aside, and went back to his tasks. Laundry Day meant shaving whether he felt like it or not. It meant scrubbing down as if he didn't know where his next hot shower would come from. It meant recording hunts in his journal the way Mary had taught him. It meant working on his fake IDs...

A wave of dizziness enveloped him. He caught himself on the counter.

“Our IDs,” he muttered. “Ours?”

But the mirror was unhelpful.

It had been years since he had run with Bobby. Three years. And before that had been Jo Harvelle, who he had met when he did that Rakshasa thing. Jo had been an off-and-on partner and lover for a year, till Bela Talbot had shot her in the arm and Ellen had pulled her out of the life for good. Before Jo, there had been a hunter here and there that he had run with. Took out some vamps with a guy called Gordon once. He had saved a hunter called Richie from a succubus in Canarsie. Lee Chambers might have made a great partner if he hadn't had a kid. A couple named Isaac and Tamara had taken out some demons with him once, but clearly didn't need a third wheel. And he had met Bobby through a hunter who went by Annie Hawkins, who seemed to know at least as many hunters as Bill and Ellen Harvelle. Through Bobby, he had met Rufus, who had helped him with his Bela problem. But Dean couldn't hunt with the guy.

It felt like he had been looking for a partner his whole life. Even when he had hunted with his mother, something had been missing.

Sammy.

Dean's head was swimming when his wife began shouting his name. He frowned up at her. Why was he on the floor? “Sammy?” he murmured.

“Dean, who is Sammy?” she asked frantically. “You keep asking for Sammy. Who is that?”

He blinked hard. Nothing was making sense. Did he even know anyone by that name? “I don't know…”

“Babe, we gotta get you back to the hospital, okay? There's something really wrong. What if it's a stroke?”

“Like my dad. When he played softball.”

Nancy was staring at him. “What? Dean, you never knew your dad. Remember? That angel killed him before you were born!” Her small hands were shaking, and for the first time in a very long time, Dean saw her reach for her rosary on the dresser. “Dean, I’ve got to call someone.”

“Ellen,” Dean muttered hoarsely. “Ellen.”

Ellen would know what to do. She always knew. She was the one who had kept her husband Bill alive all these years. She would know what to do with Dean.

As his world darkened into a sickening, swaying nothingness, Dean could hear himself speak again. “Ask Ellen if she knows where to find my brother…”


	3. All You Got's Me, and All I Got's You

It was strange enough to wake up in a room full of people he didn't recognize. But the first thought as he looked around him was that someone important was missing, and that was just disturbing. 

But he had felt that many times in his life. The important thing was to assess this situation. No one seemed aware he was awake yet. That could be an advantage, if these people were dangerous. Or not people. 

“That doesn't make any sense. How can he be experiencing something that never happened?”

“Look, you wanted me to give you the diagnosis. That's it. Sexy here has a split in his soul.”

Dean frowned. That sounded really bad for whoever Sexy was. 

“It'd sure help to have Bobby Singer here.”

Finally a familiar voice spoke up. “Well, tough. All you got’s me and all I got’s you people, so let's figure it out.”

“Ellen?” Dean croaked. It came out far quieter than he meant for it to.

He realized belatedly that he did know a few of the others. Annie Hawkins spoke up quietly. “So a split soul. I don't get that. At all. But how do we fix it?”

There came a shuddered breath beside him. “Please. Please tell me you can fix it.”

Dean cringed. That was Nancy. So he was Split-Soul Sexy. Dammit, he'd been afraid of that. 

“Pamela? This is your show. You got anything for us to go on?”

The woman whose voice he didn't know sighed. “Bill, give me a hand. He's awake. But he can't move. His body is still trying to reconcile itself to this split soul. He can’t get up.”

Dean frowned in alarm. She was right. He couldn't even open his eyes, let alone lift his head or hand. But he had looked about the room. How had he…

Very slowly, Dean's head began to clear. He had looked about the room, but he had seen the whole room, including himself lying in it. It was as though he were seeing it all from someone else's perspective. Had he actually called for Ellen a moment ago? Or did he simply think he had?

And where was Sam?

Pamela was speaking again. “Dean, you can hear us, can't you?”

He found that he could not speak. That settled that. 

“Dean, listen.” It was Ellen now. “You sure he can hear anything?”

“He's afraid. And he wants very much to hear your voice in particular.”

This chick was good. 

“Mine?” Ellen seemed surprised. “Kid always hated me. Mostly because his mama didn't like me much. Stubborn lady,” she added. 

Nancy was weeping, but she spoke up quickly. “He asked for you,” she insisted. “Just like I said. Two people he wanted, and only one was in his contacts in his phone. Ellen and Sammy.”

Pamela's voice was soft. “Ellen? He sees you as a mother figure. And he doesn't seem familiar with Bill at all.”

“What?” At last, it was a male voice. “I taught that kid how to string a bow when he was barely old enough to carry his own pack!”

With great effort, Dean forced out a few syllables of his own. “Bobby taught me that.” 

The entire crowd pushed forward in surprise. “Dean?” Annie called. “Dean, you with us?”

“He say Bobby Singer? He couldn't have known Bobby more than a year or two before that demon got him!” Bill insisted. “He losing his memories, Pamela?”

“No. He's remembering them differently. He's got two sets of memories in his mind. Each of them is just as real as the other.”

“I don't understand,” Nancy breathed. 

He wanted to comfort her, wanted to take her hand and hold her, tell her it would all be just fine. But he still couldn't move, still felt too heavy, as if he were trying to move someone else’s limbs, and anyway, he wasn't one for lying to his wife. 

Nancy…the virgin from Monument Sheriff’s Department. The secretary. The one Lilith killed…

“Henricksen…”

Nancy's hand squeezed his. “Babe, Victor is dead. Remember?” she sobbed. 

The others seemed to be holding their breaths. 

Right. Victor had been taken out by that psycho shifter last year. The one with the affinity for cheesy horror flicks. His partner had taken out the shifter, but not in time to save the Fed-turned-hunter from Dracula, or the waitress either. Dean had helped light the pyre himself for his old nemesis. How could he have forgotten that?

“Can you fix this?” Annie murmured. “Pamela?”

She sighed. “I can help him. But in the end, I think he's going to have to do the hardest parts himself.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Ellen demanded. “Look, he and I didn't always see eye to eye, and his mama and me might have gone a few rounds in the past before she died. But this is a good man, and a damn good hunter. If we can help, let's do it.”

Pamela sighed. “As I said, we can help. But in the end, Sexy will have to decide where his soul belongs. It's split over two worlds right now. He won't survive like that. He's going to have to figure out where his soul belongs, and then I can help him get there.”

“Two worlds?” Nancy whispered. 

“Two realities,” Pamela clarified. “This one. And one where Bobby Singer taught him to bow hunt. One where he saw Ellen as his surrogate mother…”

Because he didn't have one. 

The stakes were clear suddenly, in a cold, terrifying way. There was a reality somewhere nearby in which Dean hadn't known his mother, and something was trying to pull him toward it. 

He had to fight that. Had to protect himself from that. There was no one more important than Mary. No one who meant more to him than…

***

“Sam,” he hissed out. 

“I'm here, man. I'm right here. It's okay. Can you see?”

“The crap kind of question…” Dean regretted trying to sit up. A wave of nausea crashed over him, and he twisted to vomit onto the side of the road. “Where the hell-” He couldn't continue talking while retching like this. 

Sam's huge hand was on his shoulder, holding him steady. Without that, Dean realized he would be facedown in the ditch. “Okay, big brother. Breathe.”

He shifted his eyes to stare at the man. “Brother…”

“Yeah. What?”

“Brother?”

Sam was staring at him now too. “Dean, you're creeping me out, man. One minute you're fine, the next, you're laid out on a drugstore floor. Then you say you're fine, and ten minutes later, you're throwing your guts up outside a truckstop. Maybe it's a concussion.”

“A stroke.”

Sam's eyes went wide. “A-a what? Dean, you're not having a stroke. Put your hands up. Both of them.”

He struggled to do so, and succeeded by will alone. 

“What's the...Face, arms, smile, time.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“You're not having a stroke. You've got no symptoms of a stroke.”

“How do you know?” His voice and mind each seemed clearer than before. 

“Dean? I scratched your car.”

He whirled into a twist to glare at his brother. “You what?”

“See? No stroke. Come on. See if you can walk.”

Dean groaned as his feet were made to hold his own weight. “I'm better on the ground.”

“I'm going to order a shower. It'll make you feel better.”

He scowled in response. “Man, I don't want to scrub down in a damn truck stop.”

“We did it all the time as kids.”

“Yeah! And it sucked! No hot water! Mom always barking at me to hurry up so we could get back on the road. Creepy guys everywhere-”

Sam's eyes were narrowing. “Dad.”

“What?”

“Dad barking at us to hurry.”

He frowned. Why wasn't Sam making any sense? “That's what I said.”

His brother watched him for another minute, then nodded. “Know what? You're right. Let's get you back in the car. Laundry Day just became Laundry Weekend.”

“That's not a thing.”

“Is now.” Sam heaved him toward the car, jostling him till he could get him into the backseat, ignoring all protests. “I'm driving. Shut up.”

“You even know how to drive a car like this?” Dean snapped. 

Sam's face was dark with cautious worry when he turned back to look at him after settling in the driver's seat. “Yeah, Dean. I'm good. Just rest, okay? Just...Sleep if you can.”

Irritation simmered under his skin, but he settled into the seat. “When we get to Ellen's, tell her I want out of this damn rabbit hole.”

“Ellen Harvelle?” Sam clarified quietly. 

“Of course Ellen Harvelle. Mom and I ever work with any other Ellen?”

“No,” the guy driving murmured. “No, I'm certain you and Mom never worked with any other Ellen. Please sleep, Dean. I think it's time we visited Bobby, and it's a long drive.”

Dean huffed. “Bobby's dead, dude. Been dead. Whoever you are, you got a lot to catch up on.” He sighed into the pillow, breathed in the comforting scent of Nancy's presence, and fell asleep in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH FOR CHUCK'S SAKE...
> 
> (This PSA is Dedicated to Rob Benedict, stroke survivor and dearly beloved Chuck.)
> 
> FAST: For signs of a stroke  
> FACE DROOPING  
> Does one side of the face droop or is it numb? Ask the person to smile. Is the person's smile uneven or lopsided?
> 
> ARM WEAKNESS  
> Is one arm weak or numb? Ask the person to raise both arms. Does one arm drift downward?
> 
> SPEECH DIFFICULTY  
> Is speech slurred? Is the person unable to speak or hard to understand? Ask the person to repeat a simple sentence, like "The sky is blue." Is the person able to correctly repeat the words?
> 
> TIME TO CALL 9-1-1  
> If someone shows any of these symptoms, even if the symptoms go away, call 9-1-1 and say, "I think this is a stroke" to help get the person to the hospital immediately. Time is important! Don't delay, and also note the time when the first symptoms appeared. Emergency responders will want to know.
> 
> http://www.strokeassociation.org/STROKEORG/


	4. Be My Brother Again. 'Cause...Just 'Cause.

Dean could hear two sets of voices talking nearby. He tried to focus, and one set, the two women, faded out, and the two men became much clearer. 

“Near as I can figure, he's physically fine.”

“Bobby, he's not fine! I mean, seriously? He didn't recognize me from one minute to the next. Me!”

Dean forced his eyes to open. “Bobby?” he choked out. 

“Hey, settle down. Don't get up too fast!”

He swallowed through a dry throat. “Thirsty.”

The two men glanced at one another, and Bobby took a deep breath, then handed him a bottle of water. 

He didn't take his eyes off the two of them as he drank. “You look worried, boys.”

Bobby gave him a snort, but Sam shook his head. “You remember anything from the last two days?” he demanded. 

“Laundry Day,” Dean croaked out. 

Sam nodded. “And?”

“Why am I being interrogated? I do something wrong?” Something itched at his mind then, and he turned to Bobby. “And where the hell have you been? How are you here?” His heart began pounding in his chest as memories flooded back to him. “I watched that bitch gut you, man! I burned your body myself! Sam, this guy isn't who he says he is! He's a shifter or-or-”

His brother was still shaking his head. “See? He's a mess!”

Bobby eyed him curiously. “Yeah. I get that now.”

“I'm a mess?” Dean tried to stand, but fell right back to the couch. “He's dead!”

“Not yet,” Bobby responded. “Dean, you got any idea where you are?”

He looked around him, feeling a panic setting in. “Your house?”

“You saying that ‘cause you know or ‘cause you guess?”

“That demon that called herself Ruby, she killed you, Bobby! You exorcised them all, but she had some kind of spell, and it didn't take with her, and then…” Guilt bubbled up his threat, choking him. “I couldn't get to you in time, man. Best damn partner I ever had, for almost two years, and I had to watch you spill your guts out over the floor.”

Sam was quiet when he spoke. “Best partner,” he said. “That include me and Mom?”

Confusion smeared the memories suddenly. “Mom...She was more my commander than my partner. She was Mom. And you...you…”

“Dean, you don't remember hunting with me or Dad, do you?”

There was hurt in that voice as well as worry. Dean looked back at Bobby. “You taught me to bow hunt. Didn't you?”

Bobby nodded. “Taught you a lot of things.”

“I need to try getting ahold of Cas. He's not answering his phone, and I don't want to pray to him, considering how many angels are out there looking for-”

Dean's eyes had lowered, but now they shot back up. “Castiel? The angel Castiel?”

Sam looked a little sick to his stomach. “Yeah, Dean. Cas. Guy that flew both our asses out of Hell.”

He squeezed his eyes shut tight to block out all but his concentration on memories. “His wings are broken. He can't fly.”

“No. Not now. You remember him?”

The older hunter sighed in frustration. “No,” he admitted. “It was a dream. Castiel-the real Castiel-is dead, since before I was born. He was the one who saved Mom, and tried to save Dad too, before the other angel took him out. Mom told me about him all the time. He's a hero.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “He's also one of the best friends you've ever had.”

“An angel? I’m best friends with a freaking angel?” 

“Bobby, what the hell? Look, I'm going to try calling Cas again. He seems to recognize you better than me anyway. We gotta fix this.”

Dean watched the large young man walk away with rounded shoulders. “Looks like I kicked his dog,” he murmured. “He's real important to me, huh?”

Bobby watched him. “There's nobody more important to you than that kid.”

“Then why do I feel like I just met him?”

“That all you feel?”

That wasn't all he felt. Not at all. He wasn't sure what the rest of it was. But he had always been able to talk to Bobby. He had been like his father for that short time they had been together. The way Ellen had been his…Dean frowned severely. 

“What's going on in your head, boy?”

“My wife. Nancy. Is she all right?”

Bobby flinched almost imperceptibly. “I don't know about any Nancy,” he responded gently. 

Dean looked up at him, and his panic finally reached the surface. “Neither do I,” he hissed. “Bobby, neither do I! What the hell is wrong with me? Pamela Barnes said my soul was split over two realities. Pamela, killed by Azazel's demons all that time ago, or-or was it the angels? She was alive just a few hours ago, saying my soul was split, that it was killing me…”

Bobby's gaze was intense. “Split,” he repeated. “Okay, that's something. I can research that. What else did she say? Dean, this is important. What else did Pamela say?”

“Said…” He could feel himself beginning to fade again, but he ground his teeth and fought against it. “Said I have to figure where my soul belongs…”

“Bobby!” Sam hurried back into the room. “I caught Cas. He's getting on a bus. He's on his way.”

A strange excitement tangled with confusion in Dean's mind. So he would get to meet the angel of legend, the hero of his childhood. If only Mary were there…

***

Nancy was stroking his hair when he awoke this time. He sighed. “I'm getting whiplash,” he growled. 

She had been crying, but her eyes were dry now. She tried to smile. “Hey. I've missed you.”

Dean wished he could say the same. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Nance? Did Ellen leave?”

“She's sleeping in the guest room. Bill...He went back to the Roadhouse. Said to call him if there were any way that he or Jo could help. And Tara came by.”

He snorted. “Her knee giving her any trouble?”

Nancy smiled finally. “No. I guess we can rule out demons. I can't say I'm sorry about that.”

“Angels.” 

She frowned. “What?”

Dean sat up, and the dizziness was milder than before. “Angels. This is just the sort of thing that would get their rocks off.”

“I don't understand. You said you'd never seen an angel. And the lore is pretty sparse. Dean, you and your mother are the only hunters who ever even believed they were real.”

Green eyes closed in frustration. He shook his head, and stood carefully. When that seemed to work, he reached for his jeans and boots. “No. They're real. Dicks with wings. But definitely real. And this just smacks of Trickster.”

“Trickster?” Nancy scrambled after him as he stalked out of the bedroom. “But I thought they were minor gods! You said-”

He whirled around and looked at her sternly. “I don't know what I've said. I don't know what I've done. But I'm telling you, unless there's a hexbag or a djinn nearby, assuming I'm not suddenly schizophrenic, this is angel. I don't know why. But so long as I can walk without passing out, I'm going to find out.”

He only made it as far as the door before everything shivered around him, and darkness overtook him. But this was different from before. For one thing, he didn't seem to be lying on the ground. Considering how many times he had awoken disoriented during this worst Laundry Day experience ever, it was nearly disturbing to find that he was still wide awake in pitch blackness. 

He needn't have worried. Soon enough, a ring of fire flared all around him. 

Dean sucked in his breath and reached for a weapon at his hip, the angel blade which he never dressed without. He had used it to kill demons in years past, might have used it against Ruby that night she killed Bobby if the old man hadn't insisted in trying to exorcise as many black-eyed bitches as he could, to save the meat suits. Once she had killed Bobby, he hadn't cared so much. And when she had successfully flung his blade against the opposite wall, Dean had simply used her own to end her. 

But if he was right, this adversary required one particular blade. Good thing for Dean that he happened to have one. 

When the being appeared, two features struck Dean as strangely familiar. Whiskey eyes above a cocky smirk identified this creature immediately as an archangel he had tangled with in some other reality. The other feature was the ridiculous, pompous costume the thing was wearing. 

“Really?” Dean barked. “Encounter at Farpoint?”

Gabriel grinned in delight. “You know it?”

“Yeah. My mom had a thing for Jonathan Frakes. So what? You're putting humanity on trial?”

“Not so much humanity,” the archangel admitted. “Just a particular quality of it. And you, my favorite of all guinea pigs, get to represent it.”

“Before we start, you should know something.”

“Is it that you've got yourself a pointy stick? I'm aware of your pointy stick. Hence the fire. That thing can kill me.”

Dean smirked grimly. “No. Just wanted to tell you that John de Lancie wore it better.”

Gabriel sneered at him. “Yeah, well, he's a Brony now. If anyone deserves to be Q, it's me. And if anyone deserves to represent the utter disaster that is family, it's Dean Winchester.”

“Family? What the hell are you-”

“Family,” Gabriel spat bitterly. “Doesn't seem to matter which reality I hide in, there's always a Dean Winchester there to preach about family. You know, there's a reality where you are an actual preacher? A profoundly bad one. But that pretty smile attracts a large following.”

Dean snorted. “I'm a preacher?”

“A manipulative, fraudulent, charismatic faith healer to be exact. Honestly, it might be my favorite of all the Dean Winchesters I've encountered. The only one I could truly relate to. A trickster.”

He shook his head. “And how many Gabriels are there out there?”

A narrowing of those whiskey eyes spelled danger. “One,” he snapped. “One. Just as there is just one Raphael, one Michael, and one Lucifer.”

“Well, at least there's that.”

“So you can imagine the organization it took for Mike and Luci to find a reality in which the Apocalypse could go as planned. Then try to imagine how pissed they are that your baby brother sealed them into a box.”

“Yeah, all I hear is blah blah blah. Aren't you supposed to be dead?”

Gabriel's snarl was more vicious than Dean's shattered memories could recall ever seeing before. “You think that because Lucifer thinks it. And Sam gleaned it from him while they were doing the Apocalyptic tango. Funny thing about tangos. They always take two. But you had to go and make it a threesome by showing up that day, didn't you?”

His head was beginning to ache with the effort of trying to sort his memories by reality, let alone chronology. “Wait. Weren't you fighting with us at the end there?”

“And look where that got us!”

Dean shook his head. “I'm confused. What are you pissed about?”

Gabriel's eyes sparked bright gold for an instant, and the hunter took a step back involuntarily inside the ring. “I'm pissed about my family. I tried to help, thought, those Winchesters, and that deranged little soldier of Michael's, the deserter Castiel, maybe they've got a point. Maybe we don't have to play this game. Maybe we can all just pick a realm to rule over and go our separate ways without destroying one another and most of this planet. Lucifer nearly wiped me off the map before I could pop into my vessel in another reality. But you and the AWOL Angel Brigade of one, you went and averted the Apocalypse anyway. Well, good for fucking you! Good for you and yours, you asshole! What about my family?” he screamed in fury. “What about them? Lucifer is one thing-Raphie? Okay. Seal up Michael? I get that. But what about the others? Do you have any idea how many angels have died so your family could live?”

Dean watched in silence as the most powerful creature left standing fought against his own tears. 

“The Apocalypse was meant to be bloody and brutal, and horrific. But it would have been us against Hell, and we would have won. It would have united those who survived it like nothing since Lucifer’s original fall. But you...you stole that from us. Yes, many would have died, but many would have lived! You humans, you get another chance! You go to another realm! Not us. My family is in shreds. And that's never getting mended. There's no Trickster that can fix that. Civil wars and the Great Fall of the Scribe, and feuding factions, angels destroying one another, humans and demons running about with angel blades meant only for our own hands, and only for killing those who follow Lucifer...So tell me about family, Dean Winchester. Tell me about being a brother and a son and a husband. Tell me about being a father. Because I've lost everyone. In some realities, I'm the only one that remains.”

A shiver ran through Dean's whole body. When he spoke, it was softly. “Other realities were affected by what we did in ours?”

Gabriel's eyes burned gold, and for a moment, Dean was certain he would reach through the fire and smite him. Then he shook his head in amazement. “Of course they were! Countless Dean Winchesters, but only one Michael! An endless stream of Sam Winchesters, but only one Lucifer! So many Castiels that I could puke, but only one Raphael! You destroyed the authority in Heaven for every reality! I'm the only one left among the Firstborns! Every Heaven is desperately scrambling to figure out what to do next, and guess how the search for Dad is going?”

“Uh…”

“Awful!” 

Dean swallowed hard. “I'm sorry, man. Really. But you can't blame us for not wanting half the planet burned.”

“Oh, I can. And I do. And that's why you'll be the one to decide your own fate, just like you decided that of my family's. We were Legion!” he screamed madly. “But now the Host is in tatters, everywhere I go, and it's because of you. Killing you does nothing. Always another you in another reality somewhere, the self-Righteous Man with his constant talk of family. Killing you means nothing. Instead, I want you to know what it is to lose half your family. You preach about it, everywhere I run. So let's decide, shall we?”

A trembling took hold of the hunter now, and he was breathing shallowly. “What are you doing? What are you going to do to my family?”

“Nothing. You are going to do it. You're going to choose. Will you save the reality where you knew your obsessed mother, where you're happily married to a beautiful woman? Or do you save the reality where you knew your obsessed father, where you hunt and kill my kind with your psychotic brother? Simple. You get to learn what it is to watch half your family disappear.”

“You can't-”

The reality around him rippled like water, and before he fell, he heard Gabriel hiss, “Don't you ever presume to know what I can do.”


	5. We Were Just Starting to Be Brothers Again

“Sammy!” he heard himself screaming. 

Large hands grabbed hold of his arms to steady him. “I'm here! I'm here. Talk to me.”

“It's Gabriel,” he barked out. “Sam, it's Gabriel. He's lost his freaking mind!”

Sam licked at his lips. “You know me? You-you remember me?”

“What? Yes! Dammit, keep up!” He pushed past his brother, and moved toward the door, but stopped when he saw the man standing in the doorway. “Who the hell are you?”

“Dean? That's Cas. He's-”

“Castiel?” he breathed. “You're...you're the angel!”

The figure glanced at Sam, then nodded. “Yes, well...I'm an angel. I don't know if I would say I am the angel. I'm one of many.”

“You died saving my mother's life!”

Again, he waited for Sam's shrug. “I certainly would,” he said cautiously. 

Dean shook his head in wonder. “You're real!”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Dean, did I hear you say that Gabriel has something to do with your memory malfunctioning?”

The hunter took a long, deep breath, and tried to orient himself. “Cas…” He closed his eyes briefly, then sighed in frustration. “Cas. Yeah. It's-Cas, it's Gabriel. He's alive. Obviously. Played some illusion for Lucifer, and now he's running from one reality to another.”

His friend-because that angel, which part of him badly wanted to fanboy over, had been his friend for years-nodded again. “What is his motivation for pulling you into these realities?”

Dean found that he couldn't make himself meet Sam's gaze. “He's pissed. The Trickster isn't joking around anymore. And he's pissed at me in particular. He blames me for interrupting the showdown between Michael and Lucifer.”

“But I thought-” Sam interjected. 

“Yeah, but since then, he says he's watched every reality’s Heaven fall apart because of the absence of the archangels. Says more angels died because the Apocalypse was prevented than would have died if the world had burned.” Dean shook his head. “Cas, in my world? My...my other world? You're dead. I never met you. And my father was killed by Anna. I never met him either.”

In the periphery of his vision, he saw Sam flinch sharply. “You were raised by Mom?” he murmured in a voice laced with hurt and awe. “But what about…” 

At last, Dean lifted his eyes to meet his brother's. 

Sam took in a breath. “I'm not. If you never met Dad, that means you weren't born when he died. So I never was.”

Castiel looked from one of his friends to the other, then cleared his throat. “I'm sensing tension. I'll leave you two to talk, and I will speak with Bobby about possibilities.” He turned and disappeared down the hall before another word could be spoken. 

He laughed anxiously. “Angels aren't so good at subtlety, huh?”

The younger man tried to smile back. “Some are better than others.” He sat on the couch Dean had left empty. He stared down at his large hands. “So...Mom. You kept saying Mom when you should have been talking about Dad. And that explains why you don't know me.”

Guilt flushed Dean's face, and he sat awkwardly beside his brother. “I know you. Part of me knows you. And the other part…”

When Sam's clear round eyes lifted to look out from under wayward hair, it was all Dean could do not to flinch away from the intensity. 

“Sam, part of me knows you so well I could guess your phone password right now. And the other part of me has felt my whole life like someone has been missing. Like there's this shadow, this void that's been just out of my field of vision, since I was a kid. I used to think…” Dean swallowed through emotion tightening his throat. “I used to think it was my father. You know? Like he was haunting me. But-but it's not. It's you. Only part of me knows you, but all of me trusts you.”

A slow, small smile of relief played on Sam's lips. “It's always been us, man. You and me-”

“Against the world,” Dean murmured. “Saving people, hunting things...My brother by my side. It's all I've ever wanted. All I ever needed. Isn't it?”

Sam shrugged. “But you had Mom.” He cleared his throat. “What...what was she like?”

Dean snorted softly. “Best damn hunter I ever met. Smart. Ruthless. And an obsessed bitch most of the time. But she was my mom. Not going to win any mother of the year awards, but I know she always did the best she could.”

Tears were welling in Sam's eyes now. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Just like Dad.” He took a deep breath. “What about the rest of it? You...you told Bobby you had a wife?”

His heart seized in pain as memories attacked him without mercy. “God,” he moaned, leaning into his hands. “Nancy! How can I keep losing her? She's everything to me! Why is she fading?”

“Because you're choosing,” a soft female voice responded. 

Dean looked up. He didn't even have the energy to be startled. Misery coated his tongue as he spoke. “Pamela, I don't know what to do.”

She gave him a kind smile. “What are you feeling when you go to that other place?”

He laughed out a sob wearily. “It feels real. But then I'm here again, and it feels real too.”

“They're both real, Dean. You said Gabriel, an archangel, is trying to force you to decide between one half of your family or the other.”

He didn't remember telling her that. But he nodded. “Yeah. But it isn't just that. He said save. I can save one reality or the other. What does that mean? That he's going to destroy the one I don't choose? Not even he can do that!”

Pamela shrugged and put her hand on his hand. “I think you know what he meant.”

Tears streamed down his cheeks. “No.”

“Dean-”

“I said no!” he shouted. “It's not about that! I'm not-I'm not…” He stood and shook off the dizziness as well as her attempts to comfort him. “It ain't that. I'm not so important that being here or not being here is the same thing as saving anything.”

“I think you are,” she argued quietly. 

“You! You're dead! You realize that? I couldn't save you! And Nancy, I couldn't save her! Why would I want to save a reality where my wife was destroyed by a demon?”

“Why would you want to live in a reality without your brother? Your soulmate.”

“My-” The words rang in Dean's ears mercilessly. He looked back at Pamela in desperation. 

She was smiling. “Not all soulmates are romantic partners, Dean. Some are hunting partners. Brothers in arms.”

“Brothers. That’s what the angel Castiel meant. Not Mom and Dad. Me and my brother.”

Pamela was quiet.

Dean shook his head. “But...No. I can't-No. This is ridiculous. I need to just find the angel and kill him. That's the way to make this end.”

Pamela did not look convinced. 

His heart dropped. “What?” he demanded. 

“Dean, you're one soul across two realities. If you don't choose where you belong, you will die. And killing the thing that's done this to you doesn't change that. You can live in one world. Or you can die in both. And when he said save part of your family, he meant be there for them.”

“They don't need me…”

“You know that isn't true. The world will go on. But for your family, you are their world. I don't envy you. You have to choose not who you love the most, but who needs you the most, where you belong. Where do you belong, Dean?”

A panic was filling him, and he fought it down. “Here! I belong...here…”

“That's not what your heart told you when I asked.”

Green eyes glowered at her angrily. “You think you know everything. You don't.”

The woman shrugged again. “You think you know nothing. You don't. You know where you belong. And you know what it means to save your family. Dying for them isn't enough this time. So you can snap at me all you want, Sexy. But you're the one who has a choice to make. I'm just telling you that your heart has already made the choice. It's just waiting for the rest of you to catch up.”


	6. If You Know Me, Then You Know Why

Nancy was doing laundry. His laundry. She looked older than he had ever seen her. 

“Babe? Can we talk?”

She looked steadfastly at her chores without a glance at him. “I'm listening.”

He could see the outline of the rosary in her breast pocket. He sighed. “Nance, I know you're upset.”

A small laugh rang out. She continued folding his tee shirts. “What? That you're being manipulated by an archangel? Gabriel, the one that came to Mary, he's making you choose between two halves of your family. Is that not something that should upset me?”

Dean's arms encircled her small frame, and he rested his chin on her head. “It's going to be all right. I've already chosen you. It's never been a real choice. You're my wife.”

“Then why do you keep screaming for Sam?”

He froze.

The woman he had married, whom he had saved and loved and cherished, turned in his grasp to reveal tired, red eyes. “You call for him like you would never call to me. I'm not a hunter, Dean. I'm not the one who could ever have your back in that way.”

“Hey! Hey.” He put his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead lightly. “Nancy, wait. You are strong. You're my strength. And you do have my back. You're standing here washing dried blood out of my denim. How is that not having my back? You are what my mother never had. My dad never knew she was a hunter, never knew anything about hunting. You're my partner, Nance. You're what keeps me getting up each time I'm thrown on my ass. I don't know how many times I might've died if I hadn't known I needed to come home to you.”

She shook her head, and looked up into his eyes. “Dean, I'm alive because of you. And I'm in love with you. But something has always been missing.”

Dean's heart began to race. Memories burned too bright in his mind, and they refused to align. “No. I'm not leaving you alone. I don't care if you need me or not. I need you. I love you. Nance, you're everything to me! Just let me figure out how to fight this thing-”

“Ellen says fighting Gabriel is the stupidest idea you've ever had, in a long, glorious tradition of Winchester stupidity. And she says it wouldn't change anything anyway. You will still have to choose.”

“I have chosen!”

Nancy was still shaking her head at him. “Yeah? Then why isn't it over? Why are you still only half with me right now? If you've chosen, then you should be here, and those other people, your brother and your friends, should be mourning you. And they're not, are they? Because it isn't over yet. And Ellen says that if you don't…”

When she choked on her sob, Dean's heart shattered in his chest. “Nance, please-”

“Oh, shut up, Winchester. Ellen says that if you-if you don't choose, you'll die in both worlds. And if…” She shoved him away from her angrily. “And if you were going to choose this one, you'd have done it. So...so choose, dammit! Go to that other place where you can live your life with a brother you always wanted, and I'll keep fighting here as well as I can without you.”

Dean's throat had closed over. It was all he could do to force his voice through. “No. Nance, no. I'm going to find the angel, make him-make him stop, and…”

“And what?” Tears slid down her soft skin. “And then die?”

“No! I'll make him make me whole again! In both places!”

“Dean, you don't even know if he can-”

“I gotta try!”

“Try what, Dean?”

He let loose a scream of frustration and whirled on his friend. “Dammit, Castiel!”

Blue eyes blinked at him. 

Dean took in a breath, and tried to wipe away his own tears. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was just talking to my...my wife.”

The angel nodded. “This must be very tiring for you.”

Tiring. Dean snorted. “Yeah, Cas. Tiring.” Then he burst into tears all over again, and slid down the wall he was leaning against to collapse on the floor. “I'm exhausted,” he wept. 

Castiel's hand was on his shoulder then, and he was sitting beside him, a pale brown blur through Dean's tears. “I have spent time discussing things with Bobby and Sam. We may have a solution. As it were.”

“Not for nothing, Cas, but your solutions usually end with blood.”

“Yes. Well, family does not.”

His head lifted from his palms, and he turned to stare at the angel. “What did you say?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Something Bobby stated. This Bobby. I have no way of knowing what the other was like. Family doesn't end with blood.”

“What…” Dean strained against his memories. It was familiar somehow, that statement. “What does that mean?”

“When I said to Bobby that it would come down between you choosing your brother or your wife, as they are the only family you have remaining in either reality, he corrected me. He and I also consider you family, Dean. And I assume there are others on that strange world who do as well.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Most are gone, just like here. But there are a few…”

Castiel gave him a tiny smile. “Dean, I don't envy your decision. But I do understand it. I was forced to choose between my two families, over and over. But I know where my loyalty belongs.”

“What's the plan, Cas?”

“You won't like it.”

“Do I ever?”

The angel frowned. “I don't…” He sighed. “We summon Gabriel.”

“Thought of that. But his vessel is dead here. Empty.”

“He is an archangel, Dean. If he chooses to come, he will be able to come.”

Dean reached out and grabbed Castiel's arm. “Cas? If I choose one place or another, what do you think happens to the one I leave behind? If I...Would you all be safe here if I…”

There was a moment of silence between them, then Castiel smiled sadly again. “Dean, you are a critical part of the world. I have no doubt that is true no matter what world you are in. But I suspect that when Gabriel said that you would save half your family, he meant that you would be there for them. Your wife and friends, or Sam and the rest of us here...One group will have to carry on without you. And in this way, Gabriel is punishing you for his own sins. He was not there for his family when they needed him. He wants to ensure that you cannot be there for yours either.”

“You're summoning him? Why?”

“We will try. And we will attempt to kill him.”

“Will that change anything? Won't I still have to choose where I belong?”

Castiel raised himself to his feet again. “Yes. Bobby believes your situation can only be resolved in that way, and I am inclined to agree.”

His heart fell, just as his empty stomach began to churn. But he nodded. “Okay. Let's go see if the Trickster is feeling chatty.”

***

The vessel was different. A little thinner. A little blonder. But there was no mistaking the smirk. 

“Gabriel,” Sam spat. “You really are alive.”

“Heya, Samson! Great hair. Really let it go, huh?”

Dean watched his brother snarl at the angel without fear. He felt a strange sense of pride at that. “Gabriel, you got to shut this down. The game.”

Fury was barely hidden behind the smile. “Shut it down? You mean dial it up?”

His palms flew out in protest. “No! Dude! Stop! Look, you're pissed. I get it. We all get it. But-”

“What will you take in exchange?”

Everyone turned to stare at the younger man. Bobby flinched. “Sam!”

“Bobby, he's not going to stop, and I'm not letting my brother go through this. I went along with summoning him only because I thought maybe he'd negotiate.”

Castiel sighed in frustration. “Winchesters!” he cried out. 

But Sam stared ahead at Gabriel. “Will you take me instead? He's got a wife, man. I don't even exist in that other place. He's too important over there, and he's too important right here. Wipe me off both maps, and call it even. Deal?”

“Sam, no!”

Gabriel began laughing. It was an eerie sound, filled with bitterness and loathing. “You've learned nothing! You stupid-”

“Deal or not? Because if you turn it down, I've got Crowley on speed-dial. I’m not letting you tear my brother apart. You know he can't make a choice like this! If you won't deal, you know Crowley will!”

Dean closed his eyes. “No. No, Sam, this is my-”

“Bullshit!” Sam glared at him finally. “This is not your problem. This is our problem. And you got something good in that other place, something you'll never have here, but this world needs you too. A lot more than it needs me. So back off.”

Bobby grabbed Sam's arm. “We ain't going through this all over again!”

Castiel was shaking his head. “I agree. Sam, this was not the plan.”

“It was my plan,” Sam insisted stubbornly. “Gabriel?”

Dean licked at his lips carefully. He took a long breath, and hoped Nancy was holding onto that rosary, like she did whenever he was out on a hunt and hadn't been home in a few days. “See, Gabe? This is what family is.”

The angel hissed at him angrily. “Don't you start!”

He swallowed hard, and forced himself to continue. “My brother, my friends here, they're doing all they can to save my ass. My wife, my friends in that other place, they're doing the same. Nancy even told me I should choose this place, because at least it meant I'd be safe somewhere.”

“She has a skewed view of your lifestyle in this world,” Castiel murmured. 

Dean scowled at him, but continued. “This is what real family is, Gabriel. It's being willing to sacrifice your own safety and happiness for someone you love. And I don't deserve my family any more than you deserve what's left of yours.”

At that, the archangel winced violently, as though he had been struck. He looked as though he would vomit if he were human. “I loathe you, Winchesters,” he sighed. It seemed to be directed at all four of the males before him. But there was no real heat behind the words. “Do you know how hard it is to maintain a fury like this for all this time? It...it's never been my style. That was always Luci’s thing. And Raphael. Even Mikey. I've never been real good at commitment.”

Castiel sighed too. “Gabriel, you know better than to blame these men for protecting themselves and their world. At one time, you yourself chose to side with the humans against your brethren. As did I. Lucifer was on no side but that of his own selfish vengeance. Raphael was a glutton for power, and determined to set the Apocalypse back on track. Michael sought Lucifer's execution with self-righteous delirium. Only you, Gabriel. Only you were ever on the side of those our Father commanded us to love.”

Pain shone dark in those whiskey eyes, and Dean at last felt a twinge of sympathy. “Yes, and see where it got our family? Every Heaven is torn asunder, Castiel! My selfish shortsightedness has contributed to the fall of every angel in every Heaven! I've...I've failed my family, in favor of theirs. You did right, Castiel! But me? I thought only of what was good and not what was right!”

“Good’s the worthier of the two, ya idgit,” Bobby cried. “If we did what was right all along, we’d never get to doing nothing good!”

A sudden smile came over Dean then. “Lawful good versus neutral good or even chaotic, Gabe. There's lots to be said for breaking what’s right to do what's good.”

Sam turned to stare at him with an open mouth. 

He blinked at him. “What?” He turned back to Gabriel. “Dude, I got a proposition for you. And you're gonna hate it. I promise.”

Their once and future opponent looked up at him. “What?”

“First, you untangle my soul.”

“Dean-”

“Shut up, Sammy. I know where I belong. Gabriel, you untangle my soul, let me go where I need to be. And you leave the memory of me being dead in the other place. I went out fighting, lost to a badder monster than me. Maybe a dick with wings took me out.”

Gabriel narrowed his gaze, and for once he and Castiel looked like brothers. 

“And you let those people remember me however they're gonna. And let them alone.”

“Why would I do that? My intention was-”

“I know what your intention was,” Dean snapped. “You want my family to think I abandoned them like yours thinks of you!”

Gabriel's eyes closed now. 

“And you'll do it, because I got a better idea than working vengeance on me and playing Q. What about fatherhood? How's that sound to you, Family Man?”

There was silence in the room, until Gabriel began to laugh. “Father-Are you out of your mind? Me? A father?”

The other three were staring at Dean in equal disbelief, and a little horror. 

But he nodded. “Yeah. Because look. I happen to know of a kid who has been on his own for years. Nobody can find him, nobody can catch him. Probably there’s only one of him out there too, since there was only one attempt at an Apocalypse. And he's more powerful than any of your family individually. Maybe even more than you.”

Intrigue caught the Trickster’s gaze. “Who?”

Castiel looked as though he had swallowed his tongue. Dean winked at him. “Kid’s name is Jesse. And he never had much of a kidhood. Could use some parenting. And I think you could use the experience of being there for family. Consider it penance. Consider it a challenge. Consider it the biggest prank you've ever played. But consider it.”

The whiskey eyes were shining now. “The Anti-Christ?”

Sam smirked. “Who better to give the kid a little guidance through his adolescent years?”

Castiel put his hand over his eyes, and Bobby mirrored the gesture. 

“Daddy Loki and the Anti-Christ. If you could find him, that is. Nobody's heard anything of him since your brothers were topside.”

“Of course I could find him!” the angel barked back. “He's alone?”

“As alone as you,” Dean promised in a more gentle voice than he had expected to come from his own mouth. “But before you flit off to your first PTA meeting, either make me whole in both worlds or…”

It was apparent that Gabriel's focus had moved on. But he shook his head. “No. Choose. Then we will call it even.”

“You'll kill me in one of these worlds. So no one…”

Impatience flared in Gabriel's face again. “As if anyone who has ever heard you preach would ever believe you had simply picked up and left. I'll destroy you in that other world, give your family closure if that's what it takes to make you shut up.” He glared. “I had planned to throw either your brother or your wife into a black hole as a grand finale, you know. Really prove the point that you weren't there to save them.”  
Dean flinched. “I had a feeling you weren't just going to let it go. No black holes. No death other than mine?”

“I could still continue with my plan, then seek out this Jesse if I did choose to do so.”

“Yeah. But I'm trusting you got a little more honor than those bully brothers of yours. You know I got nothing to do with why your family and your heart got broken up. If you thought I did, you'd have just killed me and mine. But you didn't. And you won't. Just like you never left me dead before. You're family, Gabriel. This is it. Team Free Will. And you're a part of it. So you're going to make me choose? Fine. I choose. But don't hurt anybody else because of your own guilt in having done what's good, even when it wasn't right.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Say goodbye, Winchester. You got five minutes before I put your soul on one world.”

“Wait!” Sam cried. “Can't we have more time?” Tears were streaming down his cheeks. “Please! I-I know you don't...Just please. If you can't make him whole in both worlds, give me more time before you take him! Just an hour! Please. One hour with my brother.”

The angel snorted. “This stopped being fun days ago. Five minutes, Winchester.”

Dean turned to Sam and gave him a smile. “It's okay.”

“How is this okay?” Nancy demanded. “I don't understand! I'm going to believe you're dead?”

He nodded, taking her face in his hands tenderly. “I'm so sorry, Nance. But it's what's good, even if it ain't what's right. I owe you everything, but I belong over there, fighting with my brother. And you're safer without me.”

“How? How could I-You saved my life!”

“Yeah. And now I can remember a time I had another family, and demons came for them because of me. And then this archangel was going to kill you. Because of me. If I'm dead, no one will ever come looking for you. Ellen will watch over you. But you can live again, Nancy! How many years have you been stuck in a perpetual Laundry Day with me? Always preparing for the next hunt, always wondering if the next one will be the one that takes me out? You've saved me just like I saved you. But it's time I did what was good, Nance. You'll always be in danger so long as I'm here. When I go, you'll remember giving me a hunter’s funeral, and you'll have something to be proud of, and you'll believe I'm at peace.”

She brushed away her tears with trembling fingers. “Will you? Be at peace?”

He took a deep breath. Suddenly, his memories all slid into place, and he smiled with relief. “Yeah,” he responded with confidence. “Yeah, I will. Because I finally found that thing that was missing, and I need to go fight by his side. Do you trust me, Nancy?”

“Of course I do.”

Warm lips came together one last time, and he poured all his love into it. “Then trust me, my love. I promised I'd take care of you. This is me finally manning up and doing what I should have done a long time ago. Live your life, Nancy. I'm so proud of us.”

Her clear eyes stared up at him with new determination. “Kick it in the ass, Winchester. Always keep fighting.”

Dean sighed. “That's my girl.”

When the world faded to black this time, Dean wasn't worried. His girl had a strength all her own, not to mention two angel blades and a dozen hunters who adored her more than they ever cared about Dean himself. She was a survivor. 

And so was he. 

***

A large hand smacked him in the arm. He snorted awake. “What the hell? Get off me!”

Sam laughed as he climbed in beside him. “Maybe we better call it a day, old man.”

Dean blinked and looked around them groggily. “What?”

“I said I was going in for gauze and a wrap, and you were supposed to follow me in for soap and shampoo and shit. Next thing I know, I come back and you're passed out on the steering wheel again. I'm just saying, man, if Laundry Day is too much for you, I may have to move you into the Old Hunter’s Home and take on the hopped-up vamps myself from here on.”

“Shut up.” He turned the ignition, then turned to stare at Sam as his dreams broke over him. “Dude. Gabriel.”

An eyebrow shot up. “First Dad’s Crowley, and now you're dreaming about Gabriel? You okay, man?”

Dean took a deep breath. “He was going to...Nevermind.”

“Old Hunter’s Home, dude.”

“Shut up.”

Sam's laughter competed against the roar of Baby's engine. 

***

“And that's the story of the friendly mud monkey that suggested I come adopt your little ass.”

Jesse screwed up his face at that. “I think you made that up.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Think whatever you like. Want to come cliff diving down Angel Falls with me?”

He laughed. “Is it really named that?”

“Really is. Highest uninterrupted falls. It's in Venezuela.”

Mischief shone in the boy's face, and Gabriel adored it. “Race you.”

He gave the boy a head start.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and recommendations are like cookies for writers!
> 
> ~Posing


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